


Smoke, Mirrors and Wonderland

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Friendship, Gen, Partnership, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Illya goes in search of his missing partner





	

                                 
  
  
The Russian walked into one of the rooms in a large mansion in which his partner apparently had been in, but never came out.  
Napoleon had received an invitation to an exclusive party in the Hampton's on Long Island. Having grown up there, he didn't see anything wrong with it, as the Solo family was known well enough there, even though he didn't recognize the name of the person who'd sent him the invite.  
  
Illya had cautioned him about it, but his partner waved him off, saying he was just being paranoid.  
  
"I am being cautious, as you should be."  
  
Napoleon shrugged off the warning...  
  
And now Illya was looking for him as he didn't show up at headquarters on Monday morning and missed his weekly Section head meeting, as well as a meeting with Waverly.

Being Napoleon's second, Illya covered the morning briefing with the Section heads, after which he was called to Waverly's office when Napoleon was a no show. He was promptly sent off in search of Solo by the Old Man, who voiced his concerns as well.

Though the thought passed Kuryakin's mind that his partner might have had just too good a time, and was sleeping off a bender from excessive partying; Napoleon had done that before, but never to the point where he missed reporting to his job.

He was not at his apartment, and there was no sign of him having been there recently as the bed was made, and everything was in its proper place.

The only thing to do was to head to the Hampton's, and luckily Napoleon had left the invitation on his coffee table, saving Illya the time at searching for the address.

After a nearly two-hour drive through Long Island, he slowly pulled the red MG he'd gotten from the motor pool, through a pair of wrought iron gates leading to a long circular drive that took him toward a large white mansion.

It was a two-story home with the font having several large fluted columns supporting an eave that ran the width of the house.

Illya parked the car, thinking the only thing to do was to simply knock on the large double reached for one of the two brass door knockers, but as soon as he laid his hand on it, the door creaked open.

Immediately his senses went on red alert, and he drew his Special from his holster. He pushed the door open with his left hand and peeked inside.

A stereo was on, but the record had reached its end, and the needle stayed in place, playing back that annoying scratching sound over and over. Illya lifted up the arm, resting it back in it's cradle, as he continued to eye the room. There wasn't a sign of anyone, not one soul.

He wandered carefully through the house, each room showing indications of a party, with glasses and half-eaten hors d'oeuvres laying about on the table tops. He picked up an ashtray full of cigarette butts; they were all cold.

Finding no one on the first floor, Illya proceeded to climb the long staircase to the second floor, still holding is weapon at the ready. The bedrooms were unoccupied as well as what looked like a private study, but it was the room next door where he encountered something puzzling.

The room contained no furnishings, or curtains and there leaning against one of the walls was a simple wooden- framed mirror in a room that was all white...the walls, ceiling and even the floor were all completely void of color. None of the other rooms in the house were like it.

The Russian's eyebrows raised in curiosity as he walked to the side of the lone mirror, peering behind it but finding nothing.

He stepped in front of it, looking at his reflection and after a moment, he realized somehow his image was out of sync with him. No, wait, it was a completely different image of him... "How was this possible?"

Illya reached out, placing his hand against the mirrored surface, expecting it to be cold to the touch but instead, he felt a sudden warmth and his hand passed through it as it were liquid.

He jerked back, staring at the image of himself as he looked like he was laughing. He watched as the image waved, beconning him to perhaps step through the looking glass?

Illya shook his head at first, finding this inconceivable, but at the same time his sense of inquisitiveness pushed him to not resist the urge and he reached with his hand again, letting it slip through the mirror. Suddenly he felt his wrist being grabbed and he was sucked through to the other side.

As he bounded through the mirror, he found himself staring into the face of his exact double, though dressed in different clothing.

"Zdravstvuyte_hello," the other Kuryakin said.

"Who are you?" Illya demanded, pulling his wrist free of the man's grip

"Vami_you," he answered.

"Not possible."

"Zdesʹ vse vozmozhno_here, anything is possible, I imagine." He continued to speak Russian.

Illya cocked an eyebrow. "Do you speak English?"

"I am speaking English."

"No, I am speaking English, you are speaking Russian."

"Vy ne govorit po-angliyski . Vy govorite russkiy yazyk_ You are not speaking English. You are speaking Russian... at least that is what I am hearing."

lllya scratched his head, not quite getting that. "Where are we? On my side of the mirror, I was in the South Hampton's in Long Island."

"That is where we are, " the other Illya said.

"Why are you there...I mean here?"

"I am at a party with Napoleon, as he received an invitation and brought me along as his guest. Though I wondered why he did so instead of bringing one of his many lady friends."

Illya shook his head, where ever this alternate reality was, it was comforting to know Napoleon Solo was the same in it as he was at home."

"I am looking for the Napoleon from my world, is he perhaps here?"

"Da, on yestʹ_yes he is. As are all the guests who were at the party with him.

Illya looked at the mirror in the room there, finding it exactly the same as the one he'd stepped through. He was startled when the image of another Illya appeared in it.

"How many mirrors like this are there, " he asked his double.

"I imagine they go on ad infinitum."

Illya did not find that a comforting thought. "So is the Napoleon in your world missing as well, so to speak?"

"No, he is fine. I suspect these mirrors hold an unending number of possibilities for us."

"Could you take me to my Napoleon, please?"

The other Illya led him to his partner who was sitting on a sofa, chatting away with a lovely brunette. When Solo saw Illya and the doppleganger, his jaw dropped, and he leapt up from the couch."

"What's going on here?" He blurted out, reaching for his holster.

His Illya explained to Napoleon that he had been missing, as well as what happened with the bizarre mirrors.

Napoleon ran his hand across his hair, smoothing it and recalled the party guests had been playing with a mirror upstairs, and he joined along, thinking it was some sort of parlor trick, as once they stepped through the mirror, they ended up back where they were, or so it seemed. The had no idea they'd somehow ventured into 'Wonderland.'

"Is there another Napoleon Solo here?"He asked, straightening his tie and cuffs.

"Da, on ostavalsya v storone ot tebya , poka my ne mogli vyyasnitʹ, kak vse eto obʺyasnitʹ," the Illya double spoke quickly.

Napoleon looked to his partner for a translation, as he only caught a few of the words. "Does your Napoleon speak Russian?"

"Da, on svobodno govorit na russkom s khoroshim aktsentom."

"Yes," Illya translated, he has steered clear of you to avoid...complications and he is quite fluent in Russian. He has an excellent accent." Illya grinned at that.

"Very funny. Now is there anything else I should know about?" Napoleon scrunched up his face.

"Da, yestʹ yeshche mnogo iz nas otrazhayetsya cherez mnogo zerkal_yes, there are many more of us reflected through many more mirrors."  
"Is THRUSH in this world too?"

"Da."

Napoleon looked his partner squarely in the eye. "We need to get out of here. Have either of you figured out how we can get back home to where we belong?"

"As far as I can surmise, when there is no reflection in the mirror, that may leave an open portal to return...but that is just conjecture on my part," Doppelganger Illya spoke slowly this time, allowing Solo to translate on his own.

"Well then let's give it a try...chums. Do you want to go first Illya?" Napoleon tried smiling at the two identical men."

"Eto mozhet bytʹ ne ochenʹ khoroshaya ideya_this may not be a good idea," the two Illyas said simultaneously in Russian.

"Don't do that will you?" Napoleon groused.

"Do what?" Illya asked.

"Never mind. Now why isn't it a good idea?"

"How do we know nothing will happen if we try to step through, that is if we can. It may be a one-way mirror, no pun intended," Illya said in all seriousness.

"Well we have to try tovarisch."

They, along with the other Illya, returned to the room where the mirror sat against the wall.

Napoleon looked at him, saying his goodbyes. "Well here goes nothing." He stepped towards the mirror.

"Stop, wait just a minute," his Illya grabbed him. "Perhaps a test first?"He turned to his double, "If this works, then send everyone back who belongs in our universe yes?"

"Da," was all he said as the two of them looked at each other like long lost brothers, though nothing was said by either of them.

Illya removed one of his shoes and pushed it through the mirror's surface and watched as it fell on the empty floor in what he presumed was the right place.

"Come," Illya said quickly, while the mirror still had no reflected in it. He stepped through it, grabbing Napoleon by the wrist and dragging him through.

They felt like they were being sucked through a vacuüm as they made it through to the other side. Feeling no ill effects, Illya retrieved his shoe, and silently waved at his double.

The process of moving the party guests took about forty-five minutes and when it was done, the other Illya saluted and disappeared from view.

The guests, most of whom were still drunk, had no clue what had happened to them and most, when finding out the time and date, assumed they'd passed out at the party.

As the last of them left the room, Napoleon reached out, taking hold of the mirror's frame, pulling it from where it leaned and sent it falling to the floor with a loud crash. The glass shattered instantly.

"Why did you do that?" Illya blurted out.

"Because if we could travel through it, THRUSH could too. Imagine our world filled with countless duplicates of all our enemies?"

"Hmm, good point, though I would have loved to have studied it, but better to err on the side of caution," Illya rubbed his chin, thinking out loud. "There is a saying though, that breaking a mirror brings you seven years bad luck."

"I sincerely doubt that in this his case my friend." Napoleon quirked his head, letting that possibility pass without further consideration.

"We should report this to Mr. Waverly, fantastic though it is,"Illya said.

"And what evidence would we have to show him, the broken shards of a mirror, I don't think so. We couldn't exactly say we went through the looking-glass to Wonderland could we? He'd think we'd lost our marbles, don't you think?"

Illya crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Then since he sent me to find you, what should I tell him now that you have been located? He will want an answer." Illya's stared at him, with a look that said he was perhaps dreading his partner's answer.

"Tell him I...umm, over slept at a friend's house." Napoleon smiled.

"Right, that and Kogda rak na gore svisnet."

Napoleon looked at him strangely,"When cancer at Mount whistle? What the hell does that mean?"

Illya laughed at his partner's translation, "No it is crayfish, not cancer. When the crayfish on the hill whistles. It is the equivalent of your American saying...'when pigs fly."

'Ohhh, thanks for clarifying that. And just a reminder, you asked chum, and since you don't like my excuse maybe you'll come up with something better...think subterfuge. Now let's get going, I'm tired."

"No, my friend, it is off to headquarters for us. You missed your morning meeting with Mr. Waverly and he was not pleased. I think it will be you who needs to be using the smoke and mirrors to explain what happened to you."

"Oh how clever of you Mr. Kuryakin..." Napoleon smirked.

 

                  Note: Illya photo manip courtesy of the late Svetlanacat. Thanks again for letting me borrow it!

 


End file.
